Worth It
by Seralis
Summary: It's times like these when he wonders if it's worth it.  Postep oneshot for Knight on the Grid.


**Author's Note:** So this is...a bit random. A bit pointless. And possibly a bit cliché, considering how many post-eps are probably running around out there. But there it is. A short ramble about nothing in particular.

This one's for Allison. Literally. My first oneshot on demand.

**Worth It**

He wondered if he should have waited further down the hall, found a station where he could keep an eye on them from a distance, because seeing this disturbed him in a way he could not quite name. Seeing the happiness on that little girl's face, the gratitude in his partner's eyes, seeing a family coming back together with a father, a lover's return.

For the first time since he stepped into his office, Booth let himself think of Russ Brennan as more than a parole offender, more than a fugitive from the law. That man who managed a smile for a child who thought the world of him, the man who found comfort in a loved one's arms, who felt pain and betrayal. A man who felt a love that was far too painfully obvious. A good man.

The thought was unnerving, unsettling. For there was a truth that he did not want to know, one that he and his partner had only begun to discover for themselves. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced away only to find his gaze drawn back to the hospital bed.

His jaw clenched. He did _not_ want to know. He didn't want to think of Russ Brennan as anything other than someone who was wanted by the institute he worked for, a criminal, a…bad man. Because that would mean that the very nature of his work, his mindset every time a case came across his desk, would be shaken. It meant that the next time he came face to face with a man he labelled a criminal, he might find himself thinking of this moment, and then he might question what he knew of good and bad.

The bold line between the two was blurring, he realized, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Thank you, Booth."

"No, this never happened. Don't thank me. As far as the Bureau's concerned, I caught him here fifteen minutes from now."

Even as he said the words, he wondered how many times he'd done this and how many more times he would find himself doing it again. How many rules had he broken, how many lies had he told in the last three years? He didn't want to think about that either. He didn't want to ask himself why he did it, why he would keep doing it, even knowing that every time it would come back to this. In the end, he was risking his job and occasionally, his life. And for what?

And then her lips touched his cheek. Soft and warm, just under the curve of his cheek bone. So quick, he was half-convinced it had never even happened, that he had merely imagined it, a trick his mind was playing on him.

But his breath was caught in a throat that was suddenly too tight to release the little gasp of air - too tight to draw in a fresh lungful, even if his lungs weren't paralyzed with surprise. He could feel her eyes on him. He didn't dare look at her.

He froze, but his mind was racing. It was a simple gesture of gratitude, he told himself, nothing more. Except…it was Bones. It was his serious, keep-your-hands-to-yourself partner. He wanted to say something, do something, anything to express the whirlwind of emotion and reaction that was tearing through him, demanding _something_ that he instinctively knew would end badly if he gave into it.

She spoke again, and he found himself torn between relief and disappointment.

"Thank you, Booth," she said again.

He knew that he should have said something, should say something. Something along the lines of 'You're welcome', and not something…else. Yet the words still would not come, though his lips parted and his mouth moved in an imitation of speech.

"Just don't tell anyone," he finally managed to get out. He could say nothing more than that, do nothing more. Because if he was honest, he knew that the risks were all about her. About protecting her. And he knew that he could not let himself think about it, could not let himself consider what it would cost him, what it _was_ costing him even now. If he did, he might find himself walking away and leaving her wasn't an option.

Silently, he tried to convince himself that it wouldn't happen again, that the risks were too high, that from here on out, it was the by the book for him. He told himself that he would try harder, be more vigilant, if it meant this didn't happen again, if it meant the lines stayed a little clearer, if it meant he didn't find himself in this strange limbo of contradictions and torn loyalties.

Then he glanced quickly at the woman by his side, at the little girl smiling. And wondered if it was worth it.

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